


Three Years Of Uneaten Strawberries

by armell



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Humor, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armell/pseuds/armell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>:Vegeta/Bulma: With the threat of the androids looming over the horizon, Vegeta does whatever he can to become stronger. He finds himself relying on the help of a fearless heiress with a streak of pride and sharp wit to rival his own... and somehow he begins to harbor something more than a grudging respect for her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N** – This is a long, winding expedition into those mysterious three years. Expect to see a lot of verbal sparring and subtly escalating sexual tension. There’s a fair amount of smut, too, but I won’t spoil it or give any forewarning aside from this preemptive notice. _You’ve been warned…_

Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

**~Three years of uneaten strawberries~**

* * *

The pungent scent of ripe strawberries filled his nostrils, permeating his fine-tuned nasal passages and dulling his sense of smell. To him it was malodorous; an incessant, sweet aroma making a path through his airway and infiltrating his lungs.

He found that he hated the stench.

Worst of all, he’d come to learn that _that woman_ —that brazen, vulgar woman—was very fond of these red berries.

_This woman is completely and utterly infuriating!_

It was a warm autumn day in West City. Bulma, Yamcha, Oolong, Puar, and Vegeta, the Briefs family’s reluctant house guest, were outside eating an assortment of food that Bulma had prepared. Taking the favorable weather into consideration, the heiress had decided it would be a great day for a lunch outing and had asked everyone to join in, even Vegeta.

Hesitantly he had accepted, convincing himself that it was only on the condition that he would sneak most of the food away all for his royal person. He would not accept an invitation to sit among a plebian species for idle chit-chat; He did not intend to talk and converse with _them_ , to him their prattle was nothing above useless and annoying. He resented that he was even wasting his time amongst the Earthling scum.

Then "the woman" had come, bearing in her arms a bowl of those wretched berries she loved so much. She’d been growing a small crop of them in her garden, apparently, and she had picked the ripe berries herself that morning. She boasted that the strawberries she grew were the best in existence.

"Maybe Capsule Corp should be converted to a strawberry farm," Yamcha joked.

"Oh, knock it off." Bulma laughed, "It’s not like my life revolves around these things, you know. They just happen to be my favorite.” The blue-haired woman plucked a strawberry from her bowl, reflecting, “I’ve always like them, since… gosh, long before I met you."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you like them more than me," Yamcha huffed.

"Sure I do," Bulma mused and folded her arms across her chest, flicking her head to the side and setting her blue curls into motion.

She could feel a set of angry eyes locked on to the back of her head. She suddenly remembered her grumpy house guest, still sitting at the farthest end of the table by himself.

"Hey, Vegeta, would you like to try some of my strawberries? Maybe you would appreciate them more than these jerks," she shot a glare at Yamcha, Oolong, and Puar, who were busy eating the other food laid out on the table and ignoring her bowl of strawberries completely.

"I have no interest in something so inedible." The prince diverted his attention as he spoke to her, letting her know just how disinterested he was.

A bit stung and disheartened, she retorted, "Oh? And why not? I’ll have you know these strawberries are the best you’ll ever taste this side of the galaxy!"  

Vegeta was about to retort when Yamcha butted in, "Forget about him, Bulma, he's just a total downer who doesn't know good food when he sees it."

"As if," Vegeta sneered, crossing his arms and chiding with contempt, "You're the fool who does not know good food, or  _drink_ , for that matter, seeing as you reek of your third-rate Earthling intoxicant and the company of harlots."

The others couldn’t notice it, but Vegeta's fine-tuned Saiyan senses could pick it up unmistakably. Often when Yamcha crashed at Capsule Corp, he carried the odor of club hopping and cheap liquor. Yet another familiar stench the royal had come to find displeasing.  

Bulma frowned at the accusation. She threw a stern look at her boyfriend, who shrunk under her scrutiny.

She knew the former bandit rarely went out drinking, though he had a habit of spending a lot of time with those who did. And often it was a swarm of pesky young girls who liked to hang on his coattails. Yamcha was quite fond of the attention they gave him, and Bulma didn’t settle well with that.

Vegeta scoffed and said nothing more, wearing only a smirk on his mouth. He so enjoyed putting others down and causing turbulence among these Earthling trash.

There was a tense moment of silence as Bulma eyed Yamcha suspiciously, processing Vegeta's cutting remark. She knew that other women were hitting on her boyfriend, often very inebriated, uninhibited, amorous women seeking his acquaintanceship, but he always claimed he did not actively seek them out; the women approached him first, he said.

He was true to his word; he had never cheated on her. But being a former pupil of the Turtle Hermit, he had been taught by Roshi that it was acceptable to have a healthy appreciation for the opposite sex.

In the end, he would always come crawling back to the heiress. They had been having difficulties with their relationship lately, and things had become more problematic over the years. But they'd been together for so long… it was comfortable and convenient to stick with what was familiar to them. Besides, it was possible they only had three years left to live. There was no way they could move on with something that dreadful looming over them.

What was she to do with him? Though annoyed, Bulma just huffed and plopped an entire strawberry into her mouth.

"So... how's your training going, Yamcha?" Oolong broke the silence, simultaneously stuffing his face with a jelly-filled pastry and making loud smacking sounds with his mouth.

Vegeta pulled a face of disgust as he observed the pig's unruly eating habits. If he had his way, he would roast that pig alive for his meal...   

"Well, me and Puar are thinking of going on a training journey..."

Bulma's mouth hung open, and the strawberry she had been eating toppled out and rolled onto the table. "Why am I only hearing about this now? You didn't mention anything to me about leaving!"

Yamcha merely laughed it off, while with a finger he flicked the strawberry from the table top. "Relax, Bulma. I'm not leaving just this minute." For a quick second he glanced at Vegeta, who didn’t appear to be paying any attention to the conversation, as he was absorbed with the task of tearing into a steak with his teeth. "And c’mon, it's not like I'm going to run off just to have a good time. I’m going to be training hard to stop the androids; you have nothing to worry about.”

_Pathetic runt,_ Vegeta thought to himself as he tore a strip of flesh from his steak.

"Don't worry Bulma, I'll keep an eye on him!" Puar offered with a squeak.

"Hmph!" Bulma placed her hands on her hips. "Fine. Do whatever you like. Now, if all of you are done eating, you can go ahead and take your dirty dishes inside."

She looked over to where Vegeta had been sitting just ten seconds ago. He was already gone, but the mess of dishes he left behind was monumental. Bulma could feel her temples boiling with rage. "Ugh! What. A.  _Pig!_  Just look at this catastrophic wasteland he left behind! Does he expect  _me_  to clean this up?"

Yamcha hopped from his seat and started piling Vegeta's dishes. "Don't worry about it, I can handle this."

As Yamcha, Oolong, and Puar carried their dishes inside, Bulma sighed and looked back at the bowl of strawberries. She was the only one who had eaten any. It was not that the others were trying to be rude or anything, they had just been much too busy eating the rest of the food to take notice.

She decided not to let it bother her, after all, they had each tried her strawberries years before, she had made sure of that. All but-

_Vegeta_. Bulma groaned and thought to herself, _That freak eats so much... Just ONE little fruit couldn't have killed him._

She looked toward where the training capsule stood on the other side of the lawn. The windows were tinted red, indicating that the gravity simulation had been activated and Vegeta had already resumed his training.

Bulma rolled her eyes.  _That battle hungry ape-man. Mark my words, Vegeta, you WILL try one of my strawberries someday!_

* * *

The late autumn heat died down as evening drew to a close. The last orange hues of the sky mellowed into the grayish blue preceding nightfall. The marigold dappled sunlight slowly but surely faded from the domed Capsule Corp building, and inside the compound Bulma sat alone in the living room, watching one of her melodramatic soap operas. Onscreen, and with terrible acting, two women were arguing about a philandering boyfriend.

Bulma picked up the remote and grumbled. She flipped through the channels to find something that wouldn’t be a nagging reminder of her relationship problems. Unable to find anything especially entertaining, she settled on a nature documentary.

Featured was a segment involving chimpanzees. The chimps were running about rampantly, while others groomed each other, eating the parasitic bugs they combed through the hairs of their comrades.

Bulma snickered, amused by the crude behavior of the primates. They reminded her of a certain scowling house guest. "This looks like a chronicle on the lives of those barbaric king-kong Saiyans."

"Who's barbaric?" a snide voice called from behind her.

Bulma jumped, startled to find that she was not alone.

Vegeta was standing by the window, a huge plate of food in his hands and a mean smirk on his lips. He enjoyed that his voice had made her spring up in fear. Frightening these idiotic Earthlings was his forte and seemed to be one of the few perks to living on this mud ball of a planet.

Bulma tried to regain her composure, but her pulse was racing through her after the scare. "What are you doing here? I assumed you disliked coming into this room." He’d often complained about the volume of the television, so it was a surprise that he had actually come into the room. He must have been very bored, and needed some amusement to pass the time… Amusement that he would likely seek at her expense, Bulma realized.

"Your bothersome mother insisted that I step foot inside this dump to retrieve my meal." He shoveled some food into his mouth and gulped it down. " _You_  should have brought it to me like an obedient servant."

Bulma pouted and spun around to resume watching the television, attempting to ignore her rude guest.

Vegeta eyed the television. The chimps on the screen were thrashing their arms about wildly, fighting each other in their primordial quest for dominance. The animalistic display reminded him of when he had lived on his home planet during the short length of his childhood. He still had bleak memories of his fellow Saiyans transforming into giant apes under the full moon, hordes of his kind conquering all in their paths. This nature documentary wasn’t far from bearing semblance to those memories, so he continued to watch with only mild interest.

Suddenly the group of chimpanzees cornered a monkey that had strayed into enemy territory. The chimps attacked it, using their numbers to their advantage to tear into their enemy and spill its blood.

"Oh,  _gross_! I can't watch this!" Bulma gagged, reaching for the remote. But to her surprise the remote was no longer at her side. It was in Vegeta's hand, out of her reach. He was standing above her, staring intently at the ghastly scene playing out on the television.

Bulma scowled. “Give me the remote, I can't handle this disgusting program!"

Vegeta snorted, ignoring her demand. The show seemed to interest him; Bulma could see the intent in his gaze as he watched the bloodshed onscreen. He was taking in every detail and appeared to be enjoying it—the raw brutality he seldom had the chance to see since taking up residency on this planet.

"Ew! This is awful! Vegeta, give me the remote  _now!_ "

"Quiet!" he snapped, tearing his face away from the television for a moment to scowl at her. She glowered back at him. Having succeeded in silencing her for a moment, he turned his attention back to the program. The battered and broken monkey's eyes glazed over as death gripped it. The chimps had begun to eat the fallen enemy.

Vegeta smirked, remarking, "Your intolerance for a little bloodshed is almost amusing. This is nothing to us Saiyans. In fact, we  _crave_  the sight of carnage. You Earthlings are so pitiful to be unable to stomach this. That is one of the many factors attributing to your weakness."

"Gross. Are you Saiyans so uncivilized that you will even eat the flesh of your enemies, just like these monkeys?" Bulma gestured toward the television while a grimace spread across her features.

"It may come to that if we are hungry enough," he answered simply.

With satisfaction, Vegeta noted the look of complete disgust etched on Bulma's face. He almost laughed at the way her horror amused him.

"You're not planning on eating me, are you?" she eyed him apprehensively.

Sneering, he replied, "I hardly think your grotesque flesh would satiate me, woman. Besides, eating you would be unnecessary when I have you and your family of slaves at my expense to prepare all the food I require."

"UGH!" Bulma sank further into the sofa and crossed her arms, her lips pushed into a full, displeased pout.  _Who does this guy think he is?_  she thought.  _How could he talk to ME in such a rude manner! Me, Bulma Briefs, the most intelligent and talented girl on Earth, and probably the prettiest babe he's ever laid his beady little eyes on!_  

With her self-comforting thoughts she felt reassured and smiled contemptuously, forgetting the offending behavior Vegeta had just exhibited moments ago.

She noticed that he was just standing idly, barely absorbed in watching the television now that the cannibalistic monkey program had ended. Boredom and disinterest were clearly striking his face. The food was nearly gone from his plate.

She could not let him leave now! She’d been feeling grouchy all evening after hearing of Yamcha’s plan to leave her behind to go on his ridiculous little training journey, and now she was in the mood for some light verbal sparring to cheer herself up. She had to bait Vegeta to stay a bit longer. If he was going to antagonize her, she may as well dish out the same treatment and get a few laughs out of it.

She chatted, "Hey Vegeta, there's a show you might like to watch on-"

"I am not interested," he cut her off before she could even finish, and he shoveled the last of his food into his mouth.

Not backing down, she added, "Oh, but it's a show about fighting. I thought maybe you could learn a few moves to use against those androids..." she smiled—it was a very scheming smile, which Vegeta missed. She knew just how to push his buttons, and she hoped she could persuade him by using a topic on fighting as bait. Though she did not know him all that well, if he was at all like Goku and as obsessed with fighting as he was, he would probably be a little interested.

Vegeta paused for a moment and seemed to consider it over in his head. The offer was certainly tempting. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do at the moment, besides. But still he resisted, "I doubt you Earthlings could have developed any techniques worthy of my time or capable of holding my interest."

"C'mon, it's not like spending half an hour watching people fighting on tv is going to hold you back on your training," Bulma coaxed, "Besides, Goku watches this stuff all the time, and he tells me he learned some useful fighting tricks from it." That last part was a lie, of course.

Half a second later the prince plopped himself down onto the couch just a few feet from Bulma. She could feel the impact of his body against the sofa, startling her.

With one careless swipe of the arm he tossed the remote to her. "Go on, then. Enlighten me."

Fumbling, Bulma caught the remote in both hands. "Ah. Right. Let's see here..." She flipped through the channels, searching for what she hoped would interest the Saiyan.

_Anything that low-class imbecile Kakarot can do, so can I,_  Vegeta thought to himself, gritting his teeth.  _Though I wouldn’t put much stock in some moronic television show holding the secret to his ascension._

He had his doubts about this, though he was admittedly a bit curious to watch. Aside from training, he didn't have much else to do to occupy his time, and he did find it enjoyable watching people pummel each other when he wasn’t the one doing the beating.

_Oh boy. You're in for it now_... Bulma rubbed her temple with the back of her free hand, fretting,  _Of course Goku wouldn't bother watching this kind of stuff on tv, if he even watches tv at all. If Vegeta finds that out..._

She caught a lucky break; only a few channels up, a boxing match had just barely begun.

On the screen, the two fighters shuffled around in the ring, displaying impressive rhythmic footwork and speed (impressive to human standards, at least).

Vegeta observed silently. Of course he was gifted with immeasurable skill compared to these men on the television, but he had to admit that it was a little entertaining to sit back and observe simpletons fighting.

Then one of the fighters quickly struck out with his fist, jabbing the other square in the jaw and knocking him out cold instantly.

Vegeta gave a mean laugh. "You’ll end up regretting that you have shown this to me when I apply that technique to Kakarot's face."

The boxing match ended and was followed by a commercial break. An advertisement for delivery flowers flashed onto the screen.

_Ugh! Just what I need to see!_  Bulma groaned, immediately thinking back to her relationship troubles. Yamcha used to send her flowers quite often, but in recent years he hadn't bothered, possibly because he was too busy with other things... and whenever he and Bulma got together, their little interactions usually ended in a fight.

_I wonder if that jerk is sending bouquets to other girls instead of me..._ Bulma felt the urge to hurl something out the window. She figured a chair would do nicely.

The commercial ended and commenced with the next. The television bleated an obnoxious narrative, "WARNING: This commercial contains adult material not suitable for children!"

Bulma frowned.  _Oh no, it’s one of THOSE commercials._  She was about to change the channel, but she reconsidered, grinning devilishly,  _Maybe it would be a little fun to see Vegeta's reaction to this._

No sooner after the abrupt five-second warning ended, there were dozens of women on the screen. Various clips showed them dancing around, ripping and peeling their clothes off before rolling around on bed sheets for the promised reward of nothing more than a t-shirt.

Much to Bulma's utter delight, she saw that Vegeta's face went taut with an expression of extreme revulsion, and his eyes grew wide with horror and disgust. He could feel the hair standing on the back of his neck and his face burning hot.

"Just  _what_  is this repulsive, tasteless ritual of vulgarity _?_!" he could not hide the discomfort in his voice.

Bulma covered her mouth in an attempt to suppress a giggle, but failed, as a very loud snort slid out from her lips and between her fingers. Vegeta turned his head to cautiously scrutinize the heiress. He was half expecting her to lift her shirt up just as the women on the screen had.

Catching his appalled gaze, Bulma smirked and waggled a finger at him. "I’ll bet you’re thinking you'd rather see  _me_  take my clothes off, huh?" Vegeta flinched as she leaned in closer to him.

"Tch!" He averted his eyes from the overly sultry female. "What makes you think I'd want to see  _you_  unclothed? I have no intentions of ever laying my eyes on your mutant body. The sight of your bare flesh alone may be enough to make me go blind."

A calculating smile played on Bulma's lips as she brought her slender hands to the bottom of her shirt, and slowly she lifted the fabric up by several inches, revealing just a small glimpse of the porcelain skin of her stomach.

Through half-lidded, seductive eyes she was pleased to note that Vegeta's face was clearly marked with an expression of utter shock. He swallowed uncomfortably as a single bead of sweat rolled down from his neck and rested on his collarbone. He wanted to get up and take-off, but his body went rigid, locking him in place as if a petrifying spell had been cast over him and rendering him helpless against her sudden flirtatious advancement.

Slowly her hands continued their ascent.

"Stop that at once!" he shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, Bulma's hands were back at her sides and she still remained fully clothed. But she was laughing hysterically now. Vegeta scowled and felt anger building inside him.

"I was just teasing you," she laughed. “Oh man, you should see your face! Ha ha!”

"How  _dare_  you mock me, you unchaste harlot!" His fists clenched and he felt his pride falling fast. He was not amused in the least, and her laughter only sent a surge of rage through him. How dare she treat him like this!

She ceased her merriment and playfully winked at Vegeta, "Look, if you really want a Girls Gone Wild DVD that badly, I'll buy one for you, alright?" She smiled demurely, but her voice was laced with the most taunting tone.

"I do  _not_  care for anything involving those promiscuous courtesans performing erotic displays!" he roared, eyes narrowing in his detestation under an especially mean scowl.  _WHY would she come to the conclusion that I would want to see that sort of thing? What a debaucherous girl!_

"Oh? Why not? Are you not interested in pretty women?" she pushed her bottom lip into a full pout, trying very hard to stifle any further giggles as she continued to tease him. "Or maybe you prefer monkeys, since you seemed to have an abnormal interest in that chimpanzee show..."

He snarled at this accusation of hers.  _How can she even consider such a thing!_  he thought as he continued to stare icily at this woman.

His eyes landed on her bottom lip, which she still held in a pout. Of  _course_  he wasn't interested in what she had suggested, especially with this intimidating female in front of him... And now he found that he could not take his eyes off her pretty mouth. He felt blood rush to his face... and to his crotch, he realized with horror.

_Surely it wouldn't do any harm if I tease him with a little flirting,_  Bulma thought,  _Especially since Yamcha seems to think it's okay to run around with other women. This will make us even!_ She batted her blue eyelashes playfully at Vegeta and bit her bottom lip.  _Just look at him! Poor chump, probably hasn't seen such a gorgeous girl this close to him before. He can't keep his eyes off me! Well, can I really blame him?_ she mused quite smugly, now brimming with tremendous confidence.

"Woman," Vegeta growled.

She tilted her head down, gazing up at him through cerulean eyes. "Yes?"

"I demand you supply me with consumable sustenance this instant!" he tossed his empty plate at her for emphasis.

Bulma sat back on her haunches and frowned, her pout twisting and displaying her clear agitation.

"Well? Get to it!" The prince barked, "That's all you're good for!"

"Do it yourself, jerk!" Bulma sauntered off, but not before kicking at the prince’s empty plate.

Once he was sure she was gone, Vegeta exhaled a sigh of relief, glad to be rid of such a compromising situation.

The woman's invasiveness of his royal person made a chill run down his spine. Her presence was far too daunting for him to handle; she could be a potential distraction to his training if she kept intimidating him like this. Only his rudeness could keep her at bay, momentarily at least.

He didn't exactly enjoy her company... those pheromones of hers made his limbs and stomach feel weak, and weakness was something he would have to avoid at all costs.

He stood up and headed for his room.  _Feh! Ridiculous! That woman does not make me weak!_

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bulma had dressed herself in her favorite nightgown, a silver-blue slip of the finest satin, and she joined Yamcha in her bed. She snuggled up to him, tracing an index finger across his bare chest. "Hey, handsome," she purred flirtatiously, hoping to instigate a romp under the covers.

Yamcha turned away from his girlfriend. "Not now, I'm exhausted."

"Yamcha," she exhaled sharply.

_Oh no. She's going to give me the bitching of a lifetime now..._  Yamcha shuddered, bracing himself for what he had long ago decided was a horror worse than hell.

The tone of her voice was no longer husky; it was confrontational and assertive. "When was the last time we had sex, let alone slept in the same bed together?"

"Uh, I dunno," he meekly replied.

But he was aware of how long it had been—several months at the least. But he didn't want to face-up to his dwindling desire for her. He did generally care for Bulma, but things just weren't the same anymore.

"Any time I try to initiate something, you push me away," Bulma began to raise her voice. "I know I'm irresistible and gorgeous, so you can't blame my appearance for your inability to put-out!"

Yamcha's voice was barely above a whisper, "Bulma... You'll wake your parents-"

"Who cares if they hear me? I basically run this house! And I think I deserve some gratitude for all I've done for you. Whose roof are you sleeping under?”

"It's... not that I'm not grateful, I'm just-"

“Yeah, I know, ‘not in the mood’, right?” She shook her head and sighed. "Now I really am starting to believe that you're seeing other people."

Yamcha swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump he felt crawling up his throat. He _was_ starting to prefer the company of other girls over Bulma. It was not something he actively pursued, but it was an impulsive habit that he just couldn't shake.

He’d decided to just ride it out and see what would happen. If that meant losing Bulma... well, he couldn't say he didn't see that coming. All they did now was fight and break up for a few days, then get back together. It was the same routine, and it wasn't fun anymore. He was certain she was just as tired of it as he was.

"Maybe we should take a break," Bulma said quietly, mostly to herself.  

Yamcha’s only response was to turn away from her and ignore her.  

She tossed the blanket off and rose from her bed, throwing a robe over her shoulders and reaching for a pack of cigarettes in her drawer. "I'm gonna grab something to eat," she grumbled.

There was no response from the estranged boyfriend occupying her bed. With haste and a foul temperament Bulma marched out of her room.

* * *

It was pitch black in the compound, except for the dim light that was always left on in the kitchen in the event that someone would wander in for a midnight snack. It was nearly 11:30 as Bulma opened the refrigerator; the bright light from within made her wince. She stood there overlooking the contents of the fridge, unable to decide on anything. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

_Another disappointing night with him..._ Her eyes wandered to a bottle of whiskey. She was tempted to take it, but she remembered she already had her cigarettes to help her contend with her dissatisfaction for the night. They’d help take her mind off things for a while—it always did.

With a disconcerted sigh she closed the fridge door, unable to find anything appealing to eat. 

She opened a window and stood in front of it, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. Soon enough she felt relaxed and at ease. She allowed her thoughts to wander, while her free hand traveled to her collarbone, then her neck. Beneath her fingertips she felt her pulse begin to calm, and she was reminded of her mortality. This was such a vital part of the human body—just under the layers of flesh and muscle was the pounding of her heartbeat resonating through her jugular, which could so easily be punctured.

Would three years be enough to start over? Did she have enough time to move on before the androids brought terror and death? Not having answers was distressing to her.

"Woman!"

She shrieked and dropped her cigarette, its smoldering ashes falling to the ground. One hot ember landed on her foot, burning her delicate skin. She cursed at the pain searing through her flesh and stooped down to the floor.

Vegeta was brooding in a dark corner, arms folded across his broad chest. He almost laughed when he had startled the girl, but her irritatingly loud cry of pain infringed on his amusement.

Seething with anger, Bulma shot a piercing look at the Saiyan. "What do you want now? Can't you see what time it is? Certainly too late for your _sustenance_!"

"I only came in here to order you to put that revolting smoking device out, but it looks like you have already," he smirked, "And in such an amusing way."

"Why you-!" she wanted to throw some insults at him, but her foot sweltered with the distracting pain, and she could think of nothing clever to say.

Vegeta's smirk faded as he approached. It took him a few strides until he was standing just several feet from her.

He glowered down at her. "Being the unrefined and clumsy Earth-creature you are, I am not at all surprised that you have managed to burn yourself in the most idiotic, yet  _entertaining_  manner possible."

"Who are you calling clumsy? As I can recall, you’re the one dancing around like a jester under 400G’s, blowing up the gravity capsule and landing your lousy ass in the medical ward!"

Vegeta bared his teeth, stepping closer to her threateningly. "Do not speak derisively of my training, woman. You have no place to make a mockery of what you cannot even begin to comprehend."

"I will mock whomever I like, neanderthal," she glared back at him, her chest rising and falling under her quick, exasperated breaths. Neither broke eye contact for what seemed like hours, until Bulma, defeated from the pain in her foot, tended to her burn.

"This is  _your_  fault, you know," she shot at him.

"I wasn't the one smoking from that poisonous thing."

"Well, I wouldn't have dropped it if you hadn't startled me with your gruff cave-man voice!"

"And I would never have bothered coming in here if I didn't smell that abhorrent stench pouring from your mouth."

"Gee, thanks a lot," she muttered. She wasn't in the mood to fight at this moment with the pain shooting through her nerves.  

Vegeta watched as she tended to her injury. He did not know why he was still standing there, observing the woman. He had only meant to yell at her about the smoke stench that his keen nose had picked up all the way from in his room. But his attention had been caught to her as he saw her standing by the window in deep thought, her moon pale hand caressing her neck. He had been completely distracted. How could such a harsh, shrewd woman exhibit such a gentle and delicate display? Those soft, ivory fingers gliding over her translucent skin… It was extremely distracting.

As he continued to watch her, he could see that her body was flushed with heat. And underneath the stench of the cigarette smoke he detected the faintest aroma, the odor of an Earthling woman at the height of estrus. Despite being of a different species, her pheromones elicited a response from him.

Carnal thoughts instinctively pervaded his mind. His hand twitched; an automatic reflex as he felt the sweat building up on his palms, his body suddenly driven with desire. Irritated, he tried to push his lecherous thoughts from his mind. The thought of giving in to primeval desires utterly sickened him, so much so that when the urges inevitably sprung up every once in a while (and they’d been more frequent since his stay at Capsule Corp) he was accustomed to suppressing them quickly.

Then he detected something else, a different smell coming from her skin. No, it was not the burned flesh of her foot, but-

It was the unmistakable stench of the scar-faced weakling. That's right—Vegeta suddenly remembered—she was bound to that weakling, they were 'in a relationship', as these Earthlings put it. A feeling of disgust made its way into the pit of Vegeta's stomach.

How was it that Goku had allowed that screeching banshee of a woman, Chi-Chi, to become his wife? The answer eluded Vegeta. The woman was an annoying thing at best. But then again, Goku had spent his entire life on Earth, he hadn't even known that he was in truth an extraterrestrial. He thought he was one of them, so it would only seem natural for him to choose an Earthling woman to be his companion.

"Don't you need to get some sleep, bud?" Bulma tapped Vegeta’s shoulder with her lighter, breaking him out of his daze.

He frowned, and then glared at the female. His nose wrinkled with discomfort. She was in his face once again, and the smell of her pheromones engulfed and surrounded him entirely, overtaking his sense of smell. Swiftly his hand shot up to his face and he pinched his nostrils shut between his thumb and index finger.

Feeling insulted at his gesture, Bulma stepped even closer, " _What?_  Do you think I smell bad or something?"

"Yes, absolutely," he muttered darkly. It was a lie; her scent was not bad at all... it was simply  _too_  alluring. The smell of such a fertile woman sent blood rushing through his veins, and he felt himself teetering over the edge of control. But the Earthling was uncharted territory that he would not allow himself to explore. Lowering himself to their level…  _Kakarot's_  level… he  _could_  not!    

"Obviously you’re not used to the smell of a woman," Bulma retorted. "Well, you'd better shove-off and go to your room, then." She turned and walked away from him, "Wouldn't want to push any part of your Saiyan body over the limit, including that pointy little nose, now would you?"

" _Pointy?_ " he growled, his upper lip twitching just slightly in his annoyance. But she was gone.

* * *

Having retreated to his private quarters, Vegeta washed his face in the sink of his bathroom, and then looked up at the mirror above the faucet; he observed his features in his reflection, holding his jaw steady in his hand.  _How dare that wench mock me!_  he angrily thought as his fingers tightened around his chin. Then he glanced down and noticed that his other hand had involuntarily balled into a fist.

Grumbling, he forced himself to relax, and he scowled back at his reflection. Rarely did anyone comment on his appearance, especially when they were about to be blasted into another dimension.

However... the Earth woman was the first person in years, maybe decades, to point out that he was "kind of cute," as she had put it, likening him to something she thought of as endearing. As soon as he felt a shamed blush creep up on his cheeks at the memory, he struggled to push those thoughts from his mind; a battle he continually fought, it seemed.

He was always fighting something. A physical battle, a verbal spar with his enemies to warm up for said battle... or an internal war with his conflicting thoughts of the screaming harpy, and his ponderings of how she might look when disrobed.

_Get out of my head, vermin!_  he cursed immediately as he realized he was fantasizing about her. That wench, always invading his mind with some sort of witchcraft, he concluded. How dare she make his body react in such a strange way, making him blush, and stirring a bizarre sensation in his gut and _elsewhere,_ god forbid _._ She should not be occupying his thoughts!

Then he wondered if the woman ever spared a moment to think about him in such a way... It wouldn't surprise him, she was so foul and perverted.  

Vegeta turned the bathroom light off, permanently, with a ki blast and headed for his bed.

* * *

The overcast weather accompanying late October in West City sent clouds that blocked the sun entirely. A cool breeze had picked up, and it seemed it was about to rain any minute.

Vegeta was on his 3,000th one-fingered push up under 475 times Earth's gravity. He wasn't counting, though. He was pushing himself to continue until his body could not take it anymore, until he would collapse. And this was intended to be just a warm-up for the day's training.

Outside, Yamcha was packing a few bags filled with his personal belongings into his car. He had some spare clothes, food, grooming materials to keep up his appearance for the ladies...  

"Need some help?" Bulma walked across the lawn toward Yamcha, her blue curls bouncing with every footstep. She wore a gray long-sleeved shirt that hugged her form and was tucked into her jeans.

Yamcha hadn't expected her to come outside just this moment. He was caught off guard.

"What's in there?" Bulma eyed the duffel bag in his arms.

"Oh, this? Just some stuff to help me out with my training.” Yamcha tossed the bag onto the back seat of his car.

Bulma groaned. "Oh I swear, you men are fighting junkies! I don't see why you have to go on some training journey. Dad could just make a capsule formatted with a gravity simulator for you."

"That's uh... okay, but I don't want one. Besides, I don't want to train the same way Vegeta does," Yamcha eyed the capsule on the other side of the lawn.

"I guess I don't blame you," Bulma laughed. "You know, the other night Vegeta approached me and he told me I smell bad. Can you believe it? The nerve of that thick-headed ape!"

"You  _don't_  smell bad," Yamcha chuckled. "Well, except whenever you smoke. I don't see how you could enjoy that."

"Oh? And what about you? Mister 'I-don't-drink-except-on-the-holidays'," she retorted.

Cue the awkward moment of silence.

Yamcha shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Bulma looked up at his suspiciously. "What's up? Got something to fess up to?" she cocked a blue eyebrow.

As a matter of fact, he did, but he felt now was not the appropriate time for it. He could see the anger escalating in Bulma's eyes, and experience had taught him well that it was best to back down and stay quiet when she was pissed.

Bulma sighed, relaxing her tense shoulders, and she slid her arms up and around Yamcha's neck. "You're hopeless, but I'm going to miss you."  

"Yeah... I’m going to miss you too…" Yamcha muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon.

"What's wrong? Is something on your mind?" Bulma asked.

He could tell her how he felt—about his uncertainty concerning their botched relationship. But he chose to avoid the topic.

"Uh... I was just worried that maybe Vegeta will try to hit on you while I'm gone," Yamcha joked. "Y'know, 'cause he's afraid to try anything while I'm around. He knows I'd beat him up!" He scratched the back of his head and laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Bulma fumed, "That prude is totally in love with himself. He probably doesn't even know what a naked woman looks like!" 

"He'd probably kill any girl who tried hitting on him," he eyed her warily.

Bulma's face was marked with agitation.  

"Just promise me you'll be careful around him," Yamcha gave her a half-hearted hug. "I forgave him for what he's done in the past, but that doesn't mean you should let your guard down around him. He's still unpredictable."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Oh don't worry about him. That midget knows his place. He'll cower down like a scared puppy if he even tries to incite  _my_  wrath."

Yamcha wasn't sure if he should laugh as he envisioned Vegeta on all fours like a dog. The thought was more disturbing than anything else. "Thanks a lot for that mental image…”

They both laughed, and Yamcha walked over to the driver's side of the car and got in. Just in time, Puar floated over to them from the Capsule Corp mansion. "Bulma!" she chirped, "Your father is asking for you!"

Puar crash-landed in the back seat of Yamcha's car, right on top of his duffel bag, and its contents went flying everywhere in the back of the car.

Yamcha groaned, "Puar, don't get too excited already."

His voice was cut off when he caught Bulma's suddenly dark eyes scanning the back seat. She strode over to the car and snatched something out of the bag.  

She held up what was unmistakably a box of condoms, her other hand placed sharply on her hip.

"And just  _what_  is this atrocious thing doing in your bag?" she struggled to level the rage building in her voice.

Yamcha didn't answer; his jaw was unhinged and immobile.  

"Answer me!”  

"Oh, um, I was just bringing these with me, since we won’t be using them anymore…”

Though truthful, that answer only seemed to add salt to Bulma’s wounds, so Yamcha quickly recanted with a joke in poor taste, “Or, y’know, in case Puar meets some young man she likes and wants to transfigure into a woman to-"

"Yamcha!" Puar squealed, horrified by her master's betrayal.

"Don’t blame this on your cat!" Bulma screamed.

Yamcha turned the ignition on and floored it, speeding out of the driveway.

Bulma shrieked a series of profanities after him, but in vain; he’d made his escape.

Yamcha wiped sweat off his forehead as his car rounded a corner, finally a safe distance from the frightening woman. "Whew... That was a close one!" he almost laughed in his relief.

"Yamcha, you're terrible!" Puar nearly hissed.

"Look, just forget about it, Puar,” Yamcha explained. “She and I just need some time apart.”

Puar shook her head from side to side. She had a feeling this would not end well for her master.

* * *

"I am  _not_  surprised... I am NOT!" Bulma ground her teeth furiously, attempting to calm herself. "This was bound to happen. I should have known!"

She stormed back into the Capsule Corp building to see what her father could possibly want with her. Her patience was wearing thin, and she was hoping her father would not ask her to repair any bots or come up with some blueprints. She was far from being in a good enough mood to mull over some mechanical work and formulas.

"Hey, kiddo," Dr. Briefs looked up from his mug of coffee and waved to his approaching daughter. As he squinted through his glasses, he could see that she was stalking across the room like an angry lioness that had cornered her prey.

"Can it!" Bulma roared, “What do you need?"

He was taken aback at his daughter's abrasive attitude. "Er... well... I've been monitoring the gravity simulation in Capsule 3 for a while now, and the generator seems to be outputting quite a bit of power for-"

"And I should care,  _why_?"

"Right. Well, you see, I saw the weather forecast for today. We seem to be expecting heavy showers with a good possibility of a thunderstorm-"

Just then, the sound of a clap of thunder was heard in the distance. Bulma's eyes widened with horror as the sudden realization hit her.

"You don't suppose Vegeta is aware of the danger of running the gravity simulator during a thunderstorm?" the doctor prompted.

She was already sprinting out the front door, in her head cursing,  _That idiot! I’ve warned him a million times!_

She stepped outside and stopped in her tracks as her face was pelted with rain. The sky was appropriately ominous and foreboding.

Not wanting to get her delicate curls wet, she retreated back inside and grabbed an umbrella from the nearest closet, and she pawed through coats and jackets, searching for her raincoat.

Another clap of thunder sounded, and an explosive boom shook the house. The indoor lights dimmed and flickered for a few seconds, then everything went black as the sound of the house's main power generator shutting off was distinctly heard. The only light source now was from the faint blue-gray hue outside. Bulma felt as if her heart had stopped. She had fallen to the floor and only now shakily regained her composure, forcing herself to rise on wobbly knees.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my!" Bulma's mother came stumbling through the room nervously, her arms flailing as if she were wading in the pool.

Another reverberating boom rang through Bulma's ears. For a second the house was lit by the single bolt of lightning from outside. There was a horrible crackling sound. Something had been hit. Bulma's face was draped in terror.

She once again lunged for the door, forgetting the umbrella and raincoat entirely.

 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Bunny is generally recognized as the name of Bulma's mother (I’ve also seen her referred to as Pansy, but I think the former is more popular in this fandom).

* * *

Bulma dashed across the lawn, nearly skidding across the slick wet grass. It had been only a few seconds since she had come running out into the rain, and she was already soaked. Her worst fear was confirmed—Capsule 3 was toppled over and had huge cracks splitting all along its surface.

In her haste, she slipped and fell on her rear end on the wet ground. She yelped and cursed, but she forgot her pain as she got back on her feet to assess the situation.

_Not again. I hope that idiot's okay!_

She cried out in shock as the door to the capsule opened. Vegeta limped out with one hand clutching his abdomen. He did not notice her at first; he was having a hard time focusing on his surroundings as he stumbled across the lawn.

"Vegeta, what happened? Oh," she noticed blood seeping between his fingers. "Okay, we need to get you inside  _right now_ ," she demanded.

"I'm  _fine_ , you stupid woman..." he forced the words out in a weak growl. He couldn’t even tell which direction her voice was coming from.  

He toppled over, almost falling on top of her. She barely caught him by the shoulders just before he could hit the ground. Bulma struggled to upright him, but his body went limp and he sank to his knees.

Bunny came racing toward them, carrying three umbrellas in tow. "Oh, Bulma! What happened to him?" she cried out, her voice almost muted out by the chorus of heavy raindrops hitting the Capsule Corp mansion behind her.

Bulma noticed her mother approaching and shouted, "Mom! Get dad out here, quick!"

* * *

Vegeta awoke to the feeling of a prick in his forearm. He grimaced in pain as his vision gradually came into focus. He saw that he was once again inside the treatment room. The woman, her father, and her mother were circled around him, their faces pressed uncomfortably close. Through the window to his left he could see that the storm outside had not let up, and had only intensified. The wind had even picked up, violently pelting the heavy raindrops against the window.

"Good thing I managed to get the backup power generator running or I'd be having a bit more difficulty locating the peripheral vein," Dr. Briefs mumbled.

_What is that old fool muttering about?_ Vegeta thought. He saw that he was hooked up to a crude life-support system of some sort. And Dr. Briefs was sticking an I.V. needle into the Saiyan prince's arm.

He growled and lifted himself up by his elbows, startling everyone in the vicinity. "Leave me! I don't need to make use of your planet's underdeveloped medical equipment-" a searing pain hit his gut and he fell back against the bed.

"Don’t move yet! Do you even know how gravely you've been injured?" Dr. Briefs tsk-ed, "You're incredibly lucky to be alive at all."

"And incredibly stupid!" Bulma added, "Didn't you know any better than to train in the capsule in this weather? I told you before!  _Don't_  train in there when the weather’s bad! I mean  _really_ , do you have any common sense?"

Vegeta said nothing. He closed his eyes and winced, both in pain and in annoyance at their voices.

"Bulma, hush! Your remarks are hurting his feelings!" Mrs. Briefs leaned closer to Vegeta, "I’ll take a trip to the bakery later to pick out some delicious cakes especially for you, dear sweet prince," she cooed. Vegeta visibly cringed.

"Mother!" Bulma all but shouted.

"Be sure to recover as soon as you can. The cakes will be waiting for you!" Bunny giggled as she left the room.

Bulma shook her head from side-to-side, pinching her brow as she felt a migraine coming.

Dr. Briefs chuckled, "That's Bunny for you, lifting everyone’s spirits with the promise of sweets and pastries."

"Cakes don't heal mortifying injuries, dad."

"Hmm... right. Well then," Dr. Briefs stood up. "I've got a lot of work to do, so, Bulma, can you finish tending to Vegeta's wounds?"

Bulma only groaned in response.

Her father smiled. "Oh, you don't need to get upset, dear, after all, you two finally have some alone time now."

" _Dad!_  Not you, too!"

Dr. Briefs left the room, chuckling through his mustache.

_Now I know where this woman's loud-mouth came from,_  Vegeta thought, somewhat annoyed. His eyes were still closed and he pretended he had not overheard their conversation.  _It seems vulgarity runs in the woman's family..._

"You awake there, Vegeta?" Bulma said, attempting a somewhat soft tone to her voice.

He grunted, vocalizing his displeasure.

"I take it that ape-like sound you just made indicates a 'yes'," she said.

Vegeta could hear her shifting around, grabbing for some sort of medical supplies. He wanted to open an eye to be sure she wouldn't stab some more needles into his arm, but he decided his curiosity was unnecessary, for if the woman knew what was good for her she wouldn't dare.

Bulma opened a bottle containing an antibiotic liquid. She soaked a towel with the fluid. "Now stay still a moment," she said in her most soothing voice possible, "I'm going to apply some antibiotics to your wounds. This will sting."

She leaned over and dabbed the wet cloth onto the wound on his abdomen. Vegeta's eyes snapped opened and he tensed as the sting of the antibiotics shot through his nerves. He growled, "Damn it, woman! I can do that myself!" He raised his needle-clad arm out toward Bulma, but she held the damp towel out of his reach.

"If you address me by my name, I'll give it to you!"

" _Woman_ ," another growl ripped through his throat, this one more ferocious than before.

_Either way, he has to admit his defeat,_ Bulma smiled wickedly. "C’mon, it’s not so hard. Say my name, or suffer in silence as I treat those injuries myself."

Vegeta realized he was in a position where his pride would be wounded no matter the option. He grabbed the I.V. tube and yanked the needle out of his arm.

Bulma gasped. "Hey! What do you think you’re doing _?_!"

He struggled to upright himself, but in an instant the pain returned, much worse than before now that he was overexerting himself. Groaning, he crumpled back against the bed sheets.

Bulma sighed and shook her head. "Look, Vegeta. You can drop the tough-guy act now."

"Do me a favor... and just shut up..." he muttered. Simply speaking to her was sapping at his remaining strength.

"I understand that you want to impress everybody—strutting around and showing off how strong you are—but you don't need to keep that arrogant attitude up in front of me," the heiress consoled, "I really don't mind if you show a little weakness. I won't tell anyone."

Vegeta didn’t say anything, but his eyes were wide open now, and he was scowling at Bulma in disbelief, almost horror.  _How can she have the nerve to even consider that I am weak? And to say this to my face?_! If it weren’t for the pain stopping him he would allow his rage to curdle over.

"Besides," Bulma continued, staring out the window as she spoke freely, "You're probably the strongest player we've got against those androids. I know you could just blow up the entire planet right now and prevent them from ever seeing the light of day, but instead you want to stick around and have a crack at defeating them. Even though you’re being reckless, I admire your determination."

He carefully took in the words she spoke. Never had anyone flattered him quite in this way before, and without the intent of mocking him. This was not just some careless praise she was throwing at him.

His eyes darted away from her. "Just be quiet and finish what you need to do." He thrust his arm toward her so she could replace the needle he had ripped out.

"Oh. Alright." Bulma blinked in surprise. Had he really just given in without throwing one of his legendary tantrums? She felt the urge to giggle, but she didn't want to riskspoiling his rare permissiveness.  _Perhaps I should consider praising him more often. He’s sorta cute when he’s flustered like this..._

Vegeta stared at the torrential downpour outside as Bulma continued with her work, applying more antibiotics and then bandaging the wounds. As she was nearing completion, she demurely gazed up from what she was doing, inspecting Vegeta's face. He seemed to be deep in thought, his eyes concentrating on something unseen in the distance through the bleak rainfall. She studied his facial features. It was rare that she got to be this close to him, and she wanted to enjoy the view while she could.

_He is kinda handsome, certainly living up to his title as a prince. Though he is definitely not your run-of-the-mill prince charming, that's for sure,_ she thought. She almost guffawed as she wondered next, _If I kiss him, would he transform from this angry caveman and into a gentleman?_ She was tempted to try it—she’d always wanted a make-believe prince from her fairy tales.  

Vegeta felt that she had ceased her work. He glanced at her to see if she was done only to catch her gazing at him.

" _Woman,_ " he quickly spat out.

"Huh? Yeah?" she snapped out of her daydream.

"Are you finished yet?" he said gruffly.

"Oh... no. Sorry, I must have spaced-out a little..."

"A trait you share with your mother."

"I only inherited her good-looks, thank you very much," Bulma frowned and picked up where she left off with her work.

This time Vegeta kept his eyes on her, observing her handiwork. Her fingers moved quickly and with expert precision, swiftly bandaging his scarred flesh faster than he would be able to. 

_She must’ve had experience doing this before,_ Vegeta thought,  _Ah. Of course. The scar-faced whelp and Kakarot. She must have tended to their injuries as well._  He almost growled at the realization.  _Those pathetic runts do not deserve to receive this sort of treatment._

Slowly his eyes moved up to her face. He noted that she certainly had inherited the ditzy blonde housewife's stunning features. And she was leagues more intelligent—though she seemed to be incredibly vulgar, he suspected Bulma was very clever. But these were musings he would not allow himself to speak out loud. He was not a fan of casual small-talk, anyway...

Suddenly Oolong burst through the door, carrying a pink box of doughnuts under a chubby arm.

Vegeta's eyes went dark with hatred and blood-lust, and Bulma turned around to face her visitor. "Oolong? I didn't know you were here."

"Well, I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd stop by to get out of the rain," the pig said, snatching a sugar coated pastry. "And to get some doughnuts from your mom."

Oolong tried not to notice Vegeta's malevolent glare directed at him, but the pig felt a shiver run through his spine, "And... uh, I was wondering if you still have my capsule that I asked you to keep an eye on."

"Yeah, I still have it; in fact I have my box of capsules on me right now." A sly grin played on Bulma's lips, "Why'd you need me to look after it, anyway? Got some dirty magazines that you don't want the old turtle guy to steal?"

"Eheh heh... What makes you think that?" Oolong began to sweat.  _Yeah, something like that..._

Bulma reached into her pocket, retrieving the small container that held her capsules. She retrieved Oolong's, but it slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor, landing on the cap. It made a clicking sound, indicating that it had been activated. Oolong went pale.

"Oops... Stand back," Bulma stood up and moved several few feet away.

The capsule exploded. A variety of women’s' undergarments went flying everywhere. Panties, bras, corsets, pantyhose, thongs, swimsuits... A multitude of colors, shapes, and patterns. The motherload. It was Oolong's sprawling prized collection.

" _OOLONG!_ "

Bulma snatched up one particularly frilly pair of panties. She’d recognized it. It was  _hers_. It had gone missing several months prior. "What is  _this_  doing here? This was _mine_!"

All the color drained from Oolong's face. He’d forgotten that he'd left the pair of panties he stole from her in the capsule.

Bulma sprung up and charged toward the pig, chasing him around the room and screaming profanities. Oolong squealed and picked up the undergarments as he darted about frantically to escape her tirade of fury. Finally after grabbing every piece from his collection (except Bulma's) he bolted out the door.

"Don't ask for any favors again, you dirty swine!" she yelled after the retreating pig.

Bulma looked back apologetically at Vegeta, who was now sitting upright in the bed, his back rigid. His jaw was clamped shut and his eyes were wide with shock. He could not believe what he had just witnessed.

His eyes drifted over to the panties in Bulma's hand, and he stared at the undergarment with horror. The waistband was lined with little pink frills.

Bulma realized she was still clutching her pair of panties. Blushing, she tossed it into a nearby disposal bin with a small built-in incinerator, which expediently burned the panties to a crisp. "I'm not going to wear that ever again, not after that filthy little bastard touched it!" she proclaimed. She did not even want to think about what Oolong may have done with her panties while they had been in his possession. "I swear, one of these days I am going to roast that stinking pig alive!"  

Vegeta did not overlook her malicious comment. How coincidental that he had considered the very same thing himself just days before. He almost smirked. The woman had some sense to her, at least.   

Bulma strode over to his bedside to resume her work. "Hey, there’s a cut on your face. I must have overlooked it."

When she leaned close to him, Vegeta felt a shudder ripple through his muscles. He hated how she caused this involuntary reaction in his body.

"I only missed that cut on your cheek because you had your head tilted away from me, and I didn't see it until now. You should know better than to look away from a lady when she is speaking to you!" She again leaned over to his face, holding the towel out, "Here, I need you to tilt your head down a bit."

He grunted, but complied, slowly lowering his head. He could feel her soft breath caressing his neck. Her proximity made him uneasy.

"Now hold still," her tongue rested on her top lip as she concentrated deeply. She dabbed the towel on the cut on his cheek. With her free hand she reached out and cradled his chin for more leverage.

"Idiot! What are you doing!" Vegeta cried out, trying to cover for his shock.

" _You_  are the idiot," she fumed, "What do you  _think_  I'm doing?"

"Trying to bewitch me, or claw at my face," he glared up at her. "Or both, if that’s the sort of sadistic thing you're into."

"Calling  _me_  a sadist, huh? Takes one to know one," Bulma huffed and ignored Vegeta's obvious discomfort at having a lady's hand resting on his face. Just to be extra mean, she tightened her fingers around his jaw. Through her fingertips she felt him swallow nervously. "Just relax, you dope! If my hand wasn’t keeping you stabilized, the slightest jerk of your head would risk me getting the antibiotics in your eye. You wouldn't want to ruin your eyesight, now do you?"

"You stupid Earthlings. If your technology was more advanced, I could be isolated in a healing chamber and not have to put up with this intolerable mistreatment!"

"Humor me and at least pretend you're grateful," she said dryly. "You should consider yourself lucky. Do you know how many guys would kill to have  _me_ , famed and reputable as I am, and such an incredibly hot babe to boot, tending to their wounds?"

"The only thing you are is an unsightly and insufferable wench."

Bulma pressed the towel down on his wound, quite hard. He winced.

She harrumphed, "I don't need nor do I desire your confirmation that I'm drop-dead gorgeous."

"Drop-dead? I wish you would." A contemptuous smirk grew on his face.

Bulma pursed her lip.  _S_ he put the towel down and reached into a box of medical supplies for gauze and a bandage. "Oh yeah? Well it seems you’re the one with a death wish. That bolt of lightning nearly killed you."  

"Was that your doing then?" he growled, "Using your Earthling witchcraft to maim me and put a hold to my training?"

"Witchcraft? C’mon. No matter how rude or annoying you are, I wouldn't dream of hurting you."

She peeled the bandage from its wrapping and smoothed it over his wound with her fingers. She leaned back to observe her handiwork.

"Mm-hmm, looking good, if I do say so myself... now," she tilted her head close to him and winked, "Since you've been such a good boy, I think you deserve a kiss on the cheek, to make your boo-boo all better."

" _What?_!You'll do no such thing!"

"Come on,  _darling_  little prince, it'll only be a peck!" she craned her neck out toward him.

Instinct told him to snatch her throat;  this was the perfect opportunity to strangle the life out of this insolent creature and end her incessant chattering tirade once and for all. But he did not move a muscle.

"So, may I kiss your owchie?" she raised an eyebrow inquisitively, "I promise it will heal ten times faster."

He almost wanted to believe her. Such a thing meant nothing to him, but if an Earthling kiss could heal injuries, it would be worth the shame he'd have to face by enduring it.

He wondered, maybe having a human's lips brush against a wound helped to heal the injury much more quickly? These humans were so pathetically weak; they had to have developed  _some_  sort of special skill or technique to make up for their lack of physical strength, the only compensation for their utter fragility. Vegeta had seen stranger techniques across the many galaxies he'd crossed, psychic powers in some alien races, the ability to read minds or predict the future in others. A human kiss with healing powers would not surprise him. She did say the wound would heal ten times faster, unless she was bluffing.

And it would prove incredibly useful if that was all it took to be healed.

 

Instead he mumbled, "You may  _N-_ "

Just as he was about to finish with 'not', her lips swiftly pecked him on his jawline—not anywhere near his cut.

He roared with fury.

"My, what a temper!" Bulma stood up and laughed.

"WOMAN!"

"Hmm? What, are you upset because you were expecting me to give you a deep kiss on your mouth, tongue included?"

He went speechless. He couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman!

He managed to compose himself quickly enough to command her to leave, then he laid back down on the bed and turned away from her, attempting to overlook her existence. The pain searing through his wounds told him he had no more time for nonsense, and he needed his rest. The sooner he could recuperate, the sooner he could resume his training. He convinced himself he would rest until the damn storm blew over, hoping that would happen later that day, but on this cursed planet he knew luck wouldn't be on his side.

"If you need anything, just yell for me like you always do. I'll be around," Bulma turned and headed out of the room.


End file.
